Monday, November 30, 2009

I was given the best gift ever this week. After visiting my grandmother in Winnipeg (she is 93 years old), I was flattered enough to inherit her rolling pin. This wooden pin has seen many pastries and baked goods in her kitchen over the years; I and my cousins being the lucky recipients of its creations. I am very happy to keep it turning on its axis as I roll my way into memory lane; recreating her signature favourites.

Here is a recipe she gave me when I first got married. I bake these every holiday season; handing out rations to my parents and brothers' families so, they too, can enjoy them Christmas morning.

Grandma Anderson's Cinnamon Buns

I usually roll these out and let rise overnight. By morning, they've doubled in size and are ready for the oven:

Measure ingredients in order into electric mixer using a dough hook (same one you'd use for cookie dough). When mixer has formed the dough into a ball and is less sticky looking, turn onto lightly floured surface (if dough is still too sticky while in mixer, add more flour and mix).

Roll with pin until you achieve uniform thickness throughout. Should be a large rectangle.

Here's where my kids love to help: brush with melted butter using pastry brush or back of spoon. Sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon (as desired). Roll into 'log' shape and pinch seam together to seal. Cut into 1 1/2" or 2" pieces.

Put on greased cookie sheet with cut side up. Cover with wax paper and let rise until double in size (if setting overnight, place tea towel on top of wax paper).

Thursday, November 26, 2009

When two of my friends were expecting (Jocelyne and Krissy - xo), I whipped up a couple trays of this recipe. When their babies arrived, I wrapped the frozen entrees in a receiving blanket or crib sheet, tied a bow around it and, voila! Instant baby gift while taking care of Mom and family at the same time.

So if it weren't for the arrival of Henry and Sadie, who have grown not only in size but in our hearts, I would not be sharing this favourite with all of you now! Hmmm..perhaps I'll be wrapping a ribbon around one of these casseroles 25+ years from now for Henry and Sadie's baby?? They DO look pretty cute together, don't you think? ;-)

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

So my friend, Karen, says she makes the BEST Chicken Pot Pie. I wasn't too quick to agree since, ahem, I believe it is I who make the best chicken pot pie. So I asked her to send me the recipe and I went to work in my kitchen, ready to call her bluff.Well, not only is her recipe AWESOME but also easier to create. Good job, Karen! I'll never doubt you again! Well, I probably will but if it means getting more great recipes from you then so be it!

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In saucepan, combine chicken, carrots, peas and celery. Add water to cover and boil for 15 minutes. Remove from heat, drain and set aside.

In the saucepan over medium heat, cook onions in butter until soft and translucent. Stir in flour, salt, pepper and celery seed. Gradually add in chicken broth and milk. Simmer over medium-low heat until thick. Remove from heat and set aside.

Place the chicken mixture in bottom of pie crust. Pour hot liquid mixture over it. Cover with another pie crust and seal the edges. Cut away any excess pastry. Make small slits in the top to allow steam to escape while baking.

Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes or until pastry is golden brown and filling is bubbly. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

holiday cookies with Zac, the blue-eyed boy, being very patient in the background...

Is it too early to get festive? As I type this, I'm running back and forth from kitchen to computer in 10-minute intervals; answering the demanding call of my oven's timer. One batch was a casualty - the sad victim of someone's husband 'helping' by turning the timer off. Yet, he leaves the cookies inside unbeknownst to the baker. Who does this sort of thing?!? I choose to overcome and forge ahead. Hope you all enjoy the ooey-gooey goodness of this traditional favourite in the Green household.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Denise before she could cook

Ode To Denise

Did I ever mention how awesome my sister-in-law is with spatula in hand? Denise wasn't always the gourmet chef we see before us today. She's come a long way since her newlywed days of running out of the house crying over her dry roast beef dinners and coffee gravy (okay, I was her partner in crime with the coffee gravy).

So this page is a tribute to Denise. For all the meals she fed me and my brothers when we were hungry, we applaud you. There is never a day or night (no matter the hour) she won't whip out her frying pan and rustle up some grub for friends, neighbours or in-laws. Her culinary creations have blossomed and flourished and we all reap the benefits of her talents. I won't go into detail about how she beat me at the fair this year with her pickled beans, nor will I rub it into my mother about Denise's blue ribbon Salsa (squeezing Ma Lynne into a cool, second place).

Here is one of my fave's. Anything that cooks while I'm at work will always hit the top of my list. Great for a crispy, cold day! Cheers to Denise - we love you!

1. In a large nonstick skillet over medium heat, cook bacon, onions and celery for 5 minutes or until onions are translucent. With slotted spoon, transfer mixture to slow cooker.

2. Add potatoes, corn, stock, bay leaf, salt and pepper to slow cooker; stir to combine. Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours or on high for 4 to 6 hours, until vegetables are tender and soup is bubbling. Remove bay leaf and discard.

3. In a saucepan over medium-high heat, melt butter. Add flour and stir to make smooth paste. Slowly add milk, whisking constantly to combine. Bring mixture to boil, whisking constantly until thickened. Remove form heat and stir in cheese until completely melted. Gradually stir mixture into slow cooker. Cover and cook on high for 20 minutes. Serve garnished with additional cheddar and chopped fresh parsley, if desired.

Mix together onions, bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, ground beef and sausage. Roll into 1" balls and place in baking dish. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until beef is no longer pink in the middle

Arrange the bread cubes in single layer in 9x13 baking dish. Mix together the cream cheese, mayo, oregano and pepper until smooth. Spread this mixture over each bread cube. Sprinkle with 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese.

In large bowl, mix together sauce, water and garlic. Gently stir in meatballs. Pour over the bread and cheese mixture in pan. Sprinkle with remaining mozzarella cheese.

Butterfly salmon fillet through the center so that it lays open flat in one large piece like a book. Turn salmon over so gray underside is facing up and arrange on a clean work surface.

Season salmon with salt and pepper then top fillet with half the feta cheese. Arrange spinach on the top. Then sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top of spinach. Starting from one of the long sides, gently roll up salmon and tie snugly with cooking twine at 1-inch intervals.

Gently transfer salmon to a greased baking sheet. Drizzle melted butter over the top and sides of fillet. Sprinkle with fresh dill on top. Season with salt and pepper. Roast until just cooked through, about 20 minutes. Set aside to let rest for 5 minutes then carefully transfer to a serving platter, remove and discard twine and serve.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Blue Avacado, Ray Hickey Jr., Paschandale, Rinsethealgorithm 2009

Jeremy and I planned a music event for Port Perry's Town Hall last spring. Along with local performers including himself, Jeremy was able to bring in some amazing musicians from the Toronto area. We, as Port Perrians (Port Perriers? Port Perry-ites?), wanted to do a good job welcoming them to our neck of the woods. I deliberated over what to feed these guys. After all, aren't most musicians starving?? Talk about pressure!

Not only did our good friends Karyn and Jim Frain help with set-up, lighting, sound and clean-up, but Karyn also gave me this great recipe (served up in chafing dishes also courtesy of Karyn). It complimented the menu nicely and was the perfect answer for something quick, easy and able to serve to a crowd. Thanks again, Karyn and Jim!

Every Wednesday, my kids take turns cooking dinner for the family. It's so interesting to see what they choose to make and I love to observe them strutting around the kitchen with pride and confidence. It's more entertaining than any cooking show I'd find on the Food Network, plus I don't have to make dinner!

Zac seems to always make some sort of fish (we had Tilapia last night), Adam plays it safe with his favourites (see Macaroni and Cheese in this blog!) and Samantha seems to always surprise us with something new and interesting. She made this a few weeks ago and it is now my favourite pasta dish. I guarantee it won't disappoint!

Thursday, November 5, 2009

This is a fantastic recipe the entire family loves. My friend Laura had the great idea to replace Velveeta with the aged cheddar (found in a red container in the dairy section). It is equally fabulous and gets you away from the the processed variety. Laura's insight doesn't end at food! Check out her blog at http://alaurafrancis.blogspot.com/. Only here will you contemplate the meaning of vomit (okay, not a great topic to pair with food, but I'm going with it...)

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

It's amazing to me that life's most insignificant moments (or so it seems at the time) end up defining us the most. I share one of these moments in my life with you guys. I hope it inspires you to conjure up your own from the forgotten corners of your mind. And if you're willing to share ~ even better. xo

In The Driver's Seat

It was the summer of '83 the first time I drove my Dad's car. We had pulled into the arena's vacant parking lot where my brother's gymnastics practice had been held. As he exited the car to fetch my brother, he instructed me to wait. I was left with the keys to entertain myself with the radio.

As I climbed from the backseat to the front in order to control the song selection (a rare privilege for the youngest of four kids), I slid comfortably into my Dad's spot. As I rapidly twisted the tuning knob that skipped over static and jumbled voices, my ears and fingers searched over the band waves for a likable selection.

Somewhere out in the city, a DJ randomly thumbs through his archives and pauses on an album cover featuring four band members doing their business on a cement piling in England. Sliding out the vinyl from its cardboard cover, his hands carry it to a turn table. He carefully places the needle in the groove that sends The Who's 'Baba O'Riley' through the receivers in his broadcast area. Meanwhile, my Dad's car keys still dangle from the ignition of his 88 Oldsmobile and my tuning fingers find what they were looking for.

(I don't need to fight...)

Perhaps it was the pure energy of Roger Daltry's voice that inspired me. Or perhaps Pete Townsend's power chords. Or maybe it was because I sensed I was on the verge of my own 'Teenage Wasteland'. But whatever it was, it influenced me to do something I never thought to do before.

(...to prove I'm right)

Fumbling down the side of the driver's seat, I find a network of switches and I blindly work automatic buttons that inch me closer to the dashboard. The switches pull me as far forward as General Motors would allow. Gripping the leather steering wheel with one hand, I turn the key with my other. One click further towards the dashboard brings the engine to life.

As I take my left foot off the brake, the car crawls forward. It's hard to believe I am responsible for making it move. So many times I had traveled by car, but this time it was me at the helm, in control. I press hard on the gas with my right foot and the car powerfully jumps forward. Panicking, my left foot finds the brakes as hard as my right foot had come down on the gas. Everything lurches forward then slams back; from loose change to scattered cassette tapes. And me. My heart races and I let out a weighted breath. I sit still for a moment, there in the late night, my arms hugging the steering wheel.

My eyes fix on the key ring rattling against the steering column. My hand hovers above the swaying set, my intention to stop its movement. But instead, I find myself continue just to the right of them. I reach for the volume and turn the chrome knob clockwise.

Music drowns out the hum of the engine and Keith Moon's drums explode within the car's small space. It swells my head and I am nowhere else but inside the song; the fusion of instruments pumping my adrenaline and I haven't even moved from my seat. With two hands on the wheel and my eyes transfixed on the windshield, I press the gas once more, this time with a steadier foot as the night sky opens itself before me.

(Sally, take my hand. We'll travel south cross land.)

My right foot gets real comfortable as it presses the pedal closer to the floor boards; the speedometer responding to its demand. My hands cross-cut over one another around the wheel while tires squeal over the asphalt. Only the stars above are witness to my antics. Them, a couple of lamp posts and the members of The Who.

It was a defining moment to move that car on my own for the first time. Without sitting on my Dad's knee while he reached the pedals for me. I didn't go far. Just a few donuts over the faded white paint marking the vacant spots that would house parked cars 12 hours from now. The exact number of my age at the time.

In that moment, I felt the world was laid out before me across that windshield, urging me to fill its space with whatever I wanted. Everything felt real and possible. I was excited for me. I remember feeling thrilled for my life. I was going to do great things and I was in control to make all those things happen.

(...before we get much older...)

When the song ended, I rolled the car back into its original location. I put the gear shift back in park, just where my Dad had left me before he went into the building. As he walked out of the arena with my brother; a gym bag slung over his shoulder, I was soon shifted to my usual spot in the backseat where all little sisters go. To them, no momentous occasion had taken place.

As we headed home, I hummed the tune that had radiated from the album now resting on a shelf in a DJ booth somewhere in the city. To my father and brother, nothing had changed.

Monday, November 2, 2009

I figure everyone may need a vegetable fix after Hallowe'en. This grilled salad is so tasty and it calls for little oil so very low in fat! It's very similar to Spanky's Couscous Salad but without the couscous (if you're looking to cut out carbs). Enjoy!

Search This Blog

Bloggers.com

A Taste of Freedom

I look pretty happy with my set of wheels.

When I was a kid, I loved my bike. It would take me to far away places my legs couldn't (ie: the park at the end of our block). I would hook up with my peeps in the 'hood and we'd pedal our way to freedom. That small bit of freedom would lend just a peek into the window of our future selves; a hint towards the independence maturity promised to bring us one day.

That little girl has now grown into a wife and mother of three. My husband and I run a business together and, as most of you can relate, life is crazy-busy. At some point along the way, we wave goodbye to our trikes, easy-bake ovens and roller skates; jumping feet first into this thing called real life.

We grew up and crossed over to the other side and into adulthood where pieces of our innocence fell away -- our hours gobbled up by careers, errands, chores; saying goodbye to the youth that kept us free and unburdened. Thanks, kid, for the good times but there are more important things to do. Off we go to the world we create for ourselves – feeding our future the food it needs: our time. We don’t do it begrudgingly and for the most part, without hesitation.

But recently, I've been making time for myself and an old friend - my bike. Okay, I've definitely traded up to a newer model since I was six years old but the feeling it evokes is just the same. When I'm on my bike, my mind has a way of letting go of all things regimented and it's great to feel the wind in my hair yet again.

And it got me to thinking...

Perhaps when we crossed over to the other side and into adulthood we weren’t meant to say goodbye to our youth. Perhaps we were supposed to pause for just a moment and take our childhood by the hand and cross over with it – living in partnership with our younger selves.

Cookies and Catwalks is a blog that is meant to inspire just that. Embracing life with everything that we are and have been.

And if you feel you've forgotten just who you were way back then, no worries. Turn around and take a look. You're still standing across the way in your sneakers - your hand reaching out to your older self, waiting to join in on the fun.

If you would like to celebrate the good stuff that happens out there (random acts of kindness or thoughtful advice from a stranger), then please visit www.agreatplace.ca. Read stories from everyday people or share a story of your own. If you're chosen as the feature, you can link new readers to your blog!